


Haunted

by Marrilyn



Series: Trauma Center [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s14e07 Unhuman Nature, F/F, Girls Kissing, Hugs, Kissing, Nightmares, Rowena Gets A Hug, Rowena Needs A Hug, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 09:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: Rowena is haunted by nightmares. Reader is powerless to help her.





	Haunted

"You are enough," Rowena said as you started rummaging through your bag in search of nightwear. Traveling to the Bunker, fussing over Jack, and conversing with Sam had exhausted you. You couldn't wait to close your eyes and depart for the pleasant, worry-free land of dreams.

"What?" you asked with a frown, confused as to what she was getting at.

Rowena sighed. "What you're doing for me, taking care of me — it's enough."

_ Oh, shit! _ You froze. Heat of shame burned at your cheeks, heart beating stronger, faster as panic spread through your veins like poison. She'd heard. Dear Chuck, she'd heard.

"How much did you hear?" you asked, trying — and miserably failing — to keep your voice from trembling.

_ Nothing. Please, let the answer be nothing. _

"Enough," Rowena said.

_ Shit! Shit! Shit! _

That conversation was supposed to be private. Out of everyone in the bunker, she was the last person who was supposed to have heard it.

"Samuel is right," Rowena said, shaking you from your panicked thoughts. A smile spilled over her mouth, a splash of joy amidst the sadness. It was a mesmerizing sight. Her smile was one of her most beautiful features — and there were many, for she, to her very core, was a work of art. Endlessly beautiful, not just in looks, but in personality as well. All it took to meet that side of her was giving her a chance. You never once regretted doing so. "I appreciate everything you're doing for me."

"You're my girl. I have to look out for you," you said, trying to play it casual, nonchalant.

Lately, it had started to wear on you. One could only selflessly give and sacrifice so much before they crumbled under the pressure. You tried and tried and tried, gave your best, your  _ all, _ but nothing was working. Rowena wasn't getting better — not permanently, anyway. You were at your wit's end.

It wasn't her fault, of course. Or yours, for that matter. It was the trauma, the permanent scar imprinted on her soul. But it still bothered you, still filled you with disappointment and anger. Your girlfriend was suffering and there was nothing you could do to help her. The realization alone was enough to drive you insane, one agonizing day at a time.

"Are you mad?" you asked, a tad scared of the answer. Rowena's days of hatred and vengeance were over, but she could still hold a mean grudge. You couldn't blame her. You wouldn't be too fond of people talking about your weaknesses to other people, either. "I just wanted to help you, I swear. I thought Sam might know something. I didn't mean—" 

"I know, dear," Rowena said, cutting you off. The smile on her mouth remained, never once faltering. "I'm not mad."

Relief washed over you at her words. "Thank you."

That prompted her to laugh. "No, thank  _ you!" _ she said. Walking over to you, she put her hands on your shoulders. Her skin was warm to the touch, gentle, comforting. "Thank you for being here."

Because no one ever was, was the unspoken addition. Because no one had ever bothered, no one had cared enough to spare her a second glance as they'd stabbed her in the back and left her behind, wounded, broken, and so, so alone. When you looked at her, you didn't see an inhuman monster, didn't see an object to use and abuse and discard once you were done with it. You saw a person; a person to care for, to cherish, to love in ways she'd never been loved before.

"Always, honey," you said. 

Flashing a grin, Rowena pressed her mouth to yours. Her lips were soft, hot against yours. Electricity sparked through you, spreading from your mouth to the rest of your body, as if it was the first time, as if you'd never tasted her before. Every kiss with Rowena felt exactly like the first; this one was no exception. You never tired of her warmth, of the sweet taste that remained on your mouth for a while every time you parted, a remnant of what you had, of what was yours and yours only, of what you could have any time you wanted without even having to ask.

Yours. Rowena MacLeod was yours. No one else had the privilege of saying that. One lucky girl, you were.

She tasted like honey, soft and sweet and perfect. You wanted the kiss to last forever, wanted to feel her against you, skin on skin, mouth on mouth, warmth on warmth, for all eternity. She was like a drug; hard to be away from, impossible to live without. You wanted more and more and more, and you took it, kept taking up until you found yourself breathless.

Despite every nerve and cell in your body screaming in protest, you pulled away, broke the blissful spell that had consumed you whole.

"Suffocate me, why don't you?" Rowena teased, panting.

You grinned. "You know you love it."

"Sadist," she accused.

"Masochist," you retorted.

For a short moment the two of you stared at each other, silent, still regaining your breath. Then you both exploded into laughter, and you knew, right then and there, that everything was right in the world. Rowena was happy. She was truly, genuinely happy. You swore to never do anything to take that away from her.

The joy never leaving your faces, the two of you got into your respective nightwear and crawled under the covers. The bed, while old and far from the luxurious one you had at home (Rowena's demand), was comfortable enough. Like every other night, Rowena instantly curled against you like a kitten. You wasted no time wrapping your arms around her and holding her close. A delicate creature, she was. Soft. Fragile. Vulnerable.

Yours.

Yours to protect, yours to love and cherish.

All yours.

It didn't take long for you to fall asleep. You dreamed of flying. You didn't know where you were; aside from it being a city full of apartment buildings and skyscrapers that reached far into the clear, blue sky, you couldn't identify your location. You flew around the buildings like Tinkerbell, weightless, free of all earthly constraints. A feeling of peace settled in you, serene, blissful, like a side effect of a heavy drug.

You were free and happy. So, so happy. People crowded the streets, going about their day, and you flew higher and higher like a bird let out of its cage, free of its worries, free of problems and troubles and everything human.

You weren't human. You were  _ free. _

A sudden sharp, loud sound startled you. The beautiful skies disappeared and, opening your eyes, you found yourself in the darkness. Your stomach twisted as a feeling of dread settled in, so familiar, so damn homely that you wanted to weep. 

Rowena was screaming. She was screaming and screaming and screaming in a never-ending loop, like a banshee wailing for the dead.

_ Why? _ you thought sadly. Why couldn't she have one night of peace? Why couldn't  _ you? _

Because, you thought bitterly, life was a bitch.

Some might have called it karma. Rowena had killed and destroyed for centuries without a shred of remorse. What she wanted, she took. What she hated, she ruined. Innocents perished in her spree, in her quest for power. Now, she was paying the price.

_ Fuck that! _ You didn't give a damn about any of it. You could never justify what she'd done, but what had happened, happened. It was in the past now. She couldn't change it. What she could do was to be better, do better. She had a bright future ahead of her, a future of goodness, of kindness. All she had to do was redeem herself.

And for the most part, she already had. She'd made a few mistakes along the way, but she was headed down a good path.

That was enough.

That should have been enough!

But life wasn't fair, you reminded yourself. It was cruel and merciless. The sooner you accepted that, the better.

"Rowena," you said gently. Waking her up from a nightmare — especially one as terrible as this one, if her screams were anything to go by — had to be done with as much care as possible. The last thing you wanted was to scare her even more — or earn yourself a smack to the face or a kick to the stomach.

The darkness around you was thick. You couldn't see a thing. Leaning back and tapping around in search of the bedside table, you managed to locate the lamp and turned it on. The room instantly brightened, and finally you could see Rowena. Lying on her back with the blankets tightly clutched in her hands, she was drenched in sweat. Her breathing hitched; she flinched with every breath she took, grip on the blankets tightening to the point where her already pale knuckles took on the bleached color of sheets.

The sight shattered your heart into a million pieces. You'd seen her like this a hundred times before, and each and every time hurt as much as the first. She was hurting, and you were helpless to stop it, helpless to make it go away forever.

You felt useless. What good was there in having magic if you couldn't use it to help your girlfriend?

Useless!

So fucking useless!

"Rowena, sweetie, wake up," you said. You brought your hand to her shoulder. Rowena flinched at the touch. A small, heartbreaking mewling sound left her mouth. A whimper, much alike that of a wounded puppy.  _ Oh, god! _ What was she dreaming about? What was  _ he _ doing to her? You weren't sure you wanted to know. "Please, wake up."

She let out another whimper, then a scream, louder than before, tore free from the constraints of her throat. Her eyes snapped open like a flip of a switch, big, wide, terrified to the bone.

You let out a small sigh of relief. The worst had passed.

Rowena looked around in a panic, as if expecting a monster to jump out of any corner and drag her back to the nightmare, back to the prison of pain hiding within her mind. She was panting as if she'd run a marathon, chest heavily heaving with each breath. Her heart was beating so fast and loud that you could hear it, the fabric of her nightgown vibrating with each thundering thud.

"It's okay, baby," you said softly, like a mother soothing her frightened child. "You're safe. It was just a bad dream."

Rowena looked at you, pleading, begging for your words to be true. Begging to be safe and far, far away from the monster that was haunting her, even months after his death. You barely held back tears that threatened to fall. She needed you to be strong, needed you to be her rock, her safe place. There would be time for crying later. Rowena came first.

"You're safe," you repeated. "I'm here. I've got you, baby."

For a moment she just stared at you. Then her eyes turned red and tears started pouring out of them like a downpour, bitter, never-ending. She rose up into a sitting position and, as sobs began to leave her mouth one after the other like a mantra, leaned into you and wrapped her arms tightly around you. She buried her head in your chest and wept and wailed and whimpered, inconsolable, frightened, breaking into pieces one sob at a time.

Your arms were around her in an instant. "It's okay," you whispered. "I've got you. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay."

_ It's not okay, _ the traitorous voice in the back of your mind said. Nothing was okay; hadn't been for a year and a half, since that horrible May day that would stay with Rowena for the rest of her life. Every day was a struggle, not a single one going by without a flashback, a memory, a sudden feeling of fear that stayed with her for hours and crept into her dreams as she went to sleep. Spells, potions, herbs — nothing was of any help.

_ You _ weren't of any help.

You knew it wasn't your fault — and Rowena and Sam assured you of that — but you still wished there was something you could do. Hugs, kisses, and comforting whispers could only do so much.

"What you've been doing for me, taking care of me — it's enough," Rowena had said earlier this evening. If only you could share the sentiment. There had to be something else you could do. An enchantment, some ancient, barely known ritual, hell, even a blood sacrifice —  _ anything! _ You refused to believe you were out of options.

Maybe you were.

You shook the thought off. Somewhere out there laid the cure to Rowena's ailments, and you would find it, even if it killed you. You would search the world, look under every rock, search every crack in the ground. Something was bound to be there, and you would get your hands on it.

The door swung open, startling you, and in spilled Sam, with Dean and Castiel in tow. All three of them were messy haired and their clothes were wrinkled and ragged as if they'd just woken up, which you know for a fact wasn't true. The trio were too buried in research and clues that led to nowhere to afford themselves a night of sleep. You couldn't judge them. Having spent nights in sleepless concern for Rowena, you knew exactly how they felt. Desperation, especially one fueled by love, was a bitch.

"What happened?" Sam asked, frantically looking around in search of a threat, a monster, that had disturbed you. Dean did the same, gun held tightly in his hands, ready to be used at any time.

"We heard screaming," Castiel said.

Rowena stiffened in your arms as if she'd turned to stone. Her sobs quieted down. She went silent, deadly silent; if you couldn't hear her ragged breaths and feel her rabid heartbeats hammering against your chest, you would have thought her dead. She peeked at the commotion, shy as a child eavesdropping on a conversation she wasn't supposed to hear. A small whine escaped her before she could contain it, and she pressed her face further into your chest.

She was hiding, you realized. Hiding from the audience, from their judgmental stares and pitying glances. Hiding from the world that had taken advantage of her weakness, exploited it, mocked her for it.

"Everything's fine. We're fine," you said, shooting a glare at Dean.  _ Put that fucking gun away, _ you wanted to say, but you didn't want to scare Rowena. She was scared enough as it was.

The older Winchester got the hint and lowered the weapon, and you let out a small breath of relief. He wouldn't shoot you or Rowena. The two of you were there to help, and besides, your relationship with the Winchesters had evolved enough to make threats unnecessary. But while Sam and Castiel were okay with Rowena, Dean still had his suspicions about her. You could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at her when the two of them happened to be near each other. Yes, he'd said loud and clear that she could be redeemed, and yes, he was giving her a chance, but still… The man was unpredictable.

Sam took in the sight before him and his face softened, sympathy spilling over it like paint. You glanced at him; he returned it and nodded, a silent, wordless understanding. He knew well enough what it was like to wake up drenched in sweat and shivering. You didn't know the details (Rowena had only told you the bare minimum you needed to understand her and Sam's relationship when you'd asked her about it), but from the look on his face, you could tell the scene he was looking at was familiar. Much too familiar for comfort.

"Is she okay?" Castiel asked, brows furrowed, head tilting sideways.

"Yeah, she's fine," you said. He didn't look like he believed you. You sighed.  _ Don't be mad, _ you told yourself. He was just concerned. They all were. "She had a little nightmare, but she's okay now."

"Can we get you anything?" Sam asked, tone gentle, caring. He wanted to help, genuinely so. He and Rowena may not have been friends just yet, but he cared about her. He wanted her to be okay.

It warmed your heart to see someone else care. Rowena deserved more people like that in her life. While you were more than enough, according to her, you could tell it made her happy to know the Winchester were giving her a chance.

"No," you said with a small shake of your head. "Thanks, but we really  _ are _ good here. We just need a bit of privacy.  _ Please." _

_ Get the fuck out _ wouldn't have been the most polite of requests, so you hoped they got the hint.

Much to your relief, they did.

"Of course," Sam said. "We'll leave you to it."

You flashed him a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"No problem." They headed out. Sam stopped on the doorstep and, before closing the door, said, "Take care."

_ Take care of her. _

"I will," you said, but you doubted he heard you, having already left. You would take care of her for as long as you could, to the best of your ability. For as long as you were around, she wouldn't miss out on affection.

Rowena relaxed as soon as she heard the door close. Her tears had almost dried. She was still trembling, still shaking as if she were cold. Your grip on her tightened, one hand gently rubbing her back. The gesture seemed to soothe her. Instead of whimpers, what came out of her mouth were purrs, soft and endearing.

"Doing better?" you asked.

"A bit," Rowena said softly, almost in a whisper, voice raspy from crying.

"Need anything? A glass of water?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Wanna talk about what happened?"

"Not now. I just want to go back to sleep. I'm tired."

You respected that. Forcing her to talk (not that you could force her to do anything she didn't want. Rowena MacLeod did what she wanted, when she wanted to) would only make everything worse. When she was ready, she would tell you. Most of the time she did. Talking about it helped, and once she realized you could be trusted with that part of her, she started confiding in you. All she needed was a bit of time for everything to settle, for the fear of the experience to die down enough for her to be able to relive it in conversations. You had no trouble giving it to her.

"Okay," you said. "Come here."

The two of you laid back under the covers. Rowena nestled into you again, and you happily embraced her. She seemed somewhat smaller than earlier, a tad more fragile. She always did after an episode like that. You pressed a kiss to her scalp. She let out a content little sound, something between a moan and a murmur, that brought a smile to your face.

"You good?" you asked.

"Aye," Rowena replied.

Holding onto her, you closed your eyes.  _ Sleep well, sweet girl, _ you thought. If another nightmare were to happen, you would be right by her side. You hoped it wouldn't come to that.

It didn't.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by OswinTheStrange.


End file.
